


Eavesdropping

by flammablehat



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-13
Updated: 2009-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flammablehat/pseuds/flammablehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katie listens through the hotel room wall with a stethoscope.  Why?  Because she's Katie McGrath, that's why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eavesdropping

**Author's Note:**

> Not real, not mine, not making any profit - please don't sue. Written way back when for Kink Me, Merlin! #5 for this prompt: RPF, Katie/Other, Other meaning no one: Katie is in a room next to Bradley or Colin, the hotel room walls are very thin. Katie gets off listening to Bradley and Colin having sex, using her fingers or maybe even a dildo.

If Katie could talk to Angel about it without feeling like it would be some kind of awful betrayal, she'd tell her how surprised she'd been the first time---

How she hadn't initially recognized the noises for what they were. It'd seemed more like an anti-sound than anything, an unusual character to the off-beats of her AC/DC playlist, until she'd thumbed off her ipod and the live acoustics sorted themselves into thumping, grunting, gasping-- _oh dear god_ , it was coming from Colin's room.

\---And if she could have talked to Tony about it, knowing how he was always up for an opportunity to take the mickey out of his younger co-stars, it would've been before she'd pressed her ear to the wall, morbidly curious about the bird who strange, adorable little Colin had managed to pull---

But then, the feminine histrionics she expected to hear remained conspicuously absent, and she realized she recognized the second voice - that it wasn't just Colin -afflicted with uncharacteristic verbosity that spilled out of him only during sex- but.

Bradley. _Jesus_ , it was Bradley.

\---If she thought she could bring it up to Bradley without morbidly embarrassing them both and possibly ruining their friendship forever, she'd tell him that she honestly never pictured him as the sort of man who could make a (reserved, quiet, _Catholic_ ) lover shout a liberal mix of obscenities and praise when sh- when he came. Oh, and also, that he whimpered like a little girl when he was close.

And now. It's been a week. She's listened a total of three times. She's learned that Colin giggles when Bradley bites, that they both like it rough, and that they're something near to insatiable for each other.

Tonight, she's rigged a stethoscope she ordered as a part of a medic costume for last year's Halloween party to the wall with some tape, just above her head at one end of the couch. Bradley's been in Colin's room for an hour, drinking (presumably) and laughing and watching football on the telly. It's dark out now; it's only a matter of time, she knows, pressing her hand into the anticipatory pulses that lance through her belly, trying hard to listen over the harsh sounds of her own breathing.

Everything is quiet on the other side of the wall, the football abandoned for the time being. Katie strains to hear, her heart dropping momentarily at the thought that maybe they've left, maybe they decided to go out to drink while she was up dead-bolting her own door, maybe they were both too worn out from their scenes earlier in the day and had fallen asleep, maybe--

And there it is, a quiet moan, sending guilt and arousal flaring to life inside her like a muffled fire exposed suddenly to oxygen. She slips a hand into her panties and squeezes her thighs closed tight, biting at her lower lip. There's muffled murmuring from Colin's room, the sound of the sofa dragging over the floor, Bradley's warm laughter.

Relative silence, then Colin chokes off a whine; Katie's breath catches.

Long minutes later, Bradley swears. Colin gasps something that sounds like it could be ' _fuck_ ,' and then what might be a ' _yes_ '. Colin's northern accent is far more pronounced when he's aroused, she's noticed.

It always begins like this, slow and indistinct. Katie feels like she might go mad, rolling up against the blade of her own hand, mentally urging them both on until the growing sounds of flesh slapping together are no longer mistakable for anything other than what they are. And if that were all, it'd still be enough for Katie to get off on, picturing the two of them together - beautiful, fit, athletic and willowy at turns. But it's not all, and she thanks whatever higher powers there might be that Colin Morgan is a shameless, shameless whore in bed.

It's different than it is in porn, than it is with women - it's more real, somehow, because while Colin might be far more vocal than Katie would've given him credit for (that is, if she'd had to guess before she knew better, she would've pegged him for the silent type), he doesn't seem to be exaggerating. Mostly he breathes heavily, the panting punctuated by the occasional gasp or swear word. He'd sobbed once, beneath the distorted sound of Bradley growling obscenities and the hard impacting noise of their thrusts. Katie had come with her ear to the wall, her fist in her mouth and three fingers in her cunt. And once more, when they finished.

Tonight, with the aid of the stethoscope, everything is different. Everything's sharper, more clear, and with the sounds come the images. Their positions have always been vague in her mind, but now she can _hear_ when Bradley says "Spread your knees," and "yeah, bear down," the squeaks the couch makes as they get a rhythm going, and she knows without knowing that Colin's got his hands braced on the couch behind Bradley's head, is rising and falling in his lap. It gives her something to picture when they speed up, when she's teasing her clit in time with Colin's increasingly desperate whines - the tableau of his long, pale limbs tensing and releasing, his lower back working himself on the flushed red length of Bradley's cock, their foreheads pressed together and Colin's own leaking prick rubbing between them.

It comes over her suddenly, and she turns her face into the cushions to gasp-laugh while she circles herself ruthlessly with a thumb and plunges her first two fingers between her folds. Bradley's cursing and Colin's chanting "Bradley, Bradley, _Bradley_ ," in her ear, and it's all she can do not to echo them both.


End file.
